


show me all the light and shade

by cave_leporem



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mentions actual death of rider- character not tagged, motorskink fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cave_leporem/pseuds/cave_leporem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Motorskink prompt: Sebastian Vettel / Jorge Lorenzo. Jorge suffers from nightmares. (prompt 5, page 4)</p>
<p>Sebastian hates what the nightmares do to his lover and would do anything to help him after them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show me all the light and shade

**Author's Note:**

> Going right back through the prompt posts now. For some reason, this strikes me as the first fill I posted on LJ.
> 
> Actual death of rider refers to Marco Simoncelli. This is a work of fiction, and no offence is intended to his memory. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction, and no offence is intended to the people involved.
> 
> Title from Duran Duran's 'Lonely In Your Nightmare', which I listened to when writing it.
> 
> Enjoi.

Sebastian startles awake. He has a moment of confusion before the situation catches up to him, and an unbidden thought of ‘again, why me?’ slips across his mind before he can censor himself. 

He feels guilty seconds later, because it’s not like this is actually Jorge’s fault.

(He is briefly jealous also, at the thought that if it wasn’t him, as he momentarily wished, someone else would be sharing the Spaniard’s bed. That is a situation Sebastian doesn’t care to ponder too deeply.)

But-. Jorge is tossing and turning, making low sounds in the back of his throat. Sebastian turns him onto his back and gently puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jorge.”

The Spanish name never comes out right with his accent. Jorge always laughs and says he finds it cute. Things normally devolve into Sebastian sulking (or pouting, as Jorge says) and Jorge laughing until Sebastian pounces. Then Jorge calls Sebastian a lot of things, but cute is not one of them.

His lover refuses to wake up, so Sebastian gets a little more forceful. Shaking Jorge’s shoulder, he moves his other hand to the Spaniard’s face and strokes his cheekbone with a tender thumb. “Jorge, wake up.”

Dark eyes snap open and their foreheads nearly collide as Jorge wakes up and jolts upright. Alarmingly, those eyes are unfocused and glazed over, like the Spaniard isn’t really awake yet, but sleepwalking.

“Jorge-” Sebastian lightly slaps the cheek he was holding and lets loose a small torrent of German, the words coming more naturally in his own tongue.

(Sebastian knows a bit of Spanish and Jorge a bit of German; casualties of working in multilingual paddocks. But the only language they can communicate reliably in is stilted English, until they reach the point when spoken communication is unnecessary between them.)

The words bring Jorge back to him; his eyes clear and his trembles increase. Sebastian gathers the Spaniard into his arms to chase away the remnants of whatever it is Jorge dreamt about this time.

Sometimes it’s his high side crash in China and the slew of injuries that followed, sometimes it’s about Marco Simoncelli. Sebastian thinks Jorge’s survivor’s guilt is misplaced, because he wasn’t involved in the accident, didn’t even like the guy. One night, Jorge asked him how he’d feel if Mark Webber died during a race, even if he had nothing to do with it, and Sebastian understood a bit better. Most of the time, Jorge doesn’t remember what they are about at all, which is why it’s so hard to help him through them. 

But in that moment, Sebastian wraps his arms a little tighter around Jorge and whispers ridiculous German endearments and platitudes in his ear. Jorge will understand perhaps one word in ten, but they’ve discovered that silence is worse than not understanding.

What might be minutes or hours later, Jorge shifts a little. Sebastian lets go reluctantly and sits back to give him some air. 

“Again, huh?” Jorge tries to smirk, but it is a pathetic imitation of his usual expression.

“Jorge...” Sebastian says softly, and it gets the desired result now the Spaniard’s awake to hear it. A slight smile appears on Jorge’s lips, and the shadows in his eyes lessen. How cute, Jorge doesn’t say, but Sebastian hears it anyway.

“’S’not cute,” he mutters, playing along. Then he hesitates, but he always asks, just in case. “Do you want to talk?”

For any coherent description, Jorge would have to resort to his Spanish, but it doesn’t matter. Sebastian doesn’t particularly want to know what his nightmares tonight were about; only if talking would make anything better. He’ll listen to words he doesn’t understand, to Jorge, for hours if necessary (if it would help his lover).

Jorge shakes his head. “Don’t remember,” he replies, subdued again. He meets Sebastian’s eyes, and he’s hesitant this time, when normally he wouldn’t even ask but just take what he wants.

(Sebastian hates what the nightmares do to his lover. He wants his loud, crazy racer back.)

“Talk to me?” Jorge asks, voice lilting up in question.

Sebastian blinks in surprise, but- well. If Jorge thinks it will help- “What do you want me to say?”

He feels Jorge go limp as the Spaniard leans into him. “Not like that. Like before.”

Before? “In German?” He checks, because it seems a strange thing to help.

Jorge nods against his shoulder, and Sebastian settles back against the pillow in acquiescence. He starts talking about the last tests he did, the modifications to his car, the latest gossip in the F1 paddock- all things that would go over Jorge’s head anyway if he could understand it.

Against all odds, it’s working. Sebastian senses the last of the tension leave his lover, and glances down to see Jorge smile at him. He leans down for a kiss, for his own reassurance that Jorge is (if not alright) better, and lingers, breathing in the other’s air. It’s uncomfortable on his neck though, so he straightens his back after a minute or so.

“Better?” He asks quietly. Jorge nods only once, still smiling.

“It helps.” He might not be able to talk about his nightmares, but he can talk about this. “You fuck up English and Spanish, but in German, you speak right. German is nothing to do with nightmares. German is safe.” He turns into his lover completely as Sebastian sinks down and pulls the covers back up over them. “It helps. You help.”

Some nights, Sebastian thinks as they lie there waiting for sleep to return, it is all he can ask for.


End file.
